Whether they’ll admit it or not, anyone playing anything with a roots influence—rockabilly, alt-country, No Depression or indie roots—has to hold some kind of soft space in their hearts for country music. After all, don’t hillbilly sounds play a huge role in anything with any roots appeal? Names like Hank Williams, George Will and Johnny Cash may be more hallowed in the halls of rock’n’roll than in the gliltz of Nashville.

There’s more than a subtle division between the heart-wrenching sounds of classic country and the tunes cranked out by today’s top-sellers like Faith Hill or Tim McGraw, as any self-respecting roots rocker will step on his grandma’s fake hip in haste to tell point out. Gone are the days of backwoods agony, whiskey-soaked heartbreak and gritty loneliness, replaced by a flashy, Broadway style pop form of the music.

Billy Bacon, who’s led his Forbidden Pigs through the annals of Americana music since 1984, knows the sickening state of modern country as well as anyone else. While his band plays everything from classic country to pop to blues, Bacon’s sat and watched as polished, pretty-boy acts with a greater love of the studio than music history lured generation after generation of fans away from his troupe’s more traditional fare. There’s a very, very obvious rift between anything that comes from the heart of Billy Bacon and the Forbidden Pigs and what’s shipped to country radio stations across the nation, as both anyone with a set of ears and Bacon himself will point out.

"If I watch TNN I don’t see any country music at all. It’s very terrible," he moaned. "It’s very pop. It’s making a lot of money. Those guys are selling a lot of records, and bully for them, but it’s not country music."

If anyone could pass a judgment about modern country’s sad state of affairs, it’d be Bacon. References to classic country pepper his conversation, showing his strong familiarity with things past—an appreciation for Americana that, evidently, stretches farther than simple musical tastes. A ’55 panel truck driving by his front window is enough to make Bacon stop mid-sentence and gawk in appreciation for a second or two.

It’s that very admiration for his country’s pop history that separates Bacon from hosts of other songwriters. Authenticity is key, at least when the Forbidden Pigs are concerned, as Bacon goes to lengths to ensure his work’s spirit matches up with its predecessors.

"When I do a country song, I want it to be authentic," he said. "I want it to be real country. I want it to be something that if Merle Haggard or George Jones or Buck Owens would walk in they’d say ‘That’s country music.’ That’s how I approach country music. I take it very seriously."

Taking roots seriously isn’t too common in today’s world of slicked-up pop country. Where Bacon’s songs stick true to the country mold, modern fare slides around with a confusing number of external influences. Everything from Southern rock to Top 40 shapes the modern country radio set, giving today’s country a sheen never before seen in the genre. Needless to say, a traditionalist such as Bacon doesn’t have a lot of favorable things to say about the style.

"I think as people have gotten older, all the people who have listened to Lynyrd Skynyrd when they were younger now want to be able to identify with something now that they’re a few years older, and that’s what Nashville is putting out," he said. "It’s pretty much Lynnrd Skynnrd, only worse. It’s not country music at all. They have to identify with that. It sounds familiar to them, so they drive around in their pickup trucks thinking its country music."

There’s more to the Forbidden Pigs than simple roots country, however much Bacon bemoans the current state of Nashville’s output. In addition to golden-age country, the band draws on a breadth of American music, from Tex-Mex to pop to rockabilly; the band’s latest, Pig Latin (2000, Triple X) even collects a handful of Latin-tinged tracks by the band. Nailing Billy Bacon and the Forbidden Pigs down to a single genre, just like Bacon hopes. In fact, Bacon chose the Forbidden Pigs moniker in order to help cross genres easily.

"That’s why we came up with that stupid name," he laughs. "It wouldn’t put us in any genre. I could do an all tex-mex record and the next record could be all blues or all pop."

The band’s lack of consistent format is a format all unto itself. Bacon traces the idea of the Forbidden Pigs back to his early inspiration coming from the Sir Douglas Quintet, and later the solo work of front man Doug Sahm. With styles that could swing from country to pop in a heartbeat, Sahm’s musical destiny was as scattered as Bacon’s.

"The reason I idolized him musically was the guy could do everything. He did really great country albums, he did really good blues albums, he did great rock albums, he did do-wop," Bacon remembered fondly. "He did everything. The Pigs were based upon the quintet, but we didn’t do it as good as them. It was based on those guys because they did everything."

Sahm wouldn’t only be an inspiration to Bacon, their musical paths would eventually cross and the pair would build a friendship; Sahm’s Texas Tornadoes even showcased the two’s freindship by recording a version of Bacon’s "Una Mas Cerveza." When Sahm died in 1999, Bacon decided to dedicate Pig Latin to his memory. While Sahm’s inspiration on Bacon is unmistakable, Bacon’s dedication comes not from artistic reasons, but purely personal motivations.

"He was my friend," Bacon simply stated, discussing the dedication.

Though those firmly in tune with music history should be able to easily grasp Bacon’s songs for what they are, a nearly iconoclastic tribute to American music, the general public doesn’t even attempt to make the connection. Few Joe Sixpacks even know of Sahm, let alone want to hear a band inspired by his music. Respect, it seems, comes tough when chasing authenticity.

"This has been going on for years," Bacon said, reflecting on the uphill road his band continues to climb. "I can remember 10 years ago, as far back as that, people trying to clog dance. They’d say ‘Play some country!’ and we’d play a Buck Owens song and they couldn’t dance to it, because they learned to clog dance listening to a 4:4 beat listening to Alabama. They didn’t really know country music at all, and they didn’t know what country music was. They just wanted to clog dance. When they said play country music, we did, but they couldn’t dance to it."

Making things even more difficult for the average listener, the band’s fun style—Bacon describes his fare as party music—doesn’t fit into the fun-loving mold of bands with roots influences, such as the Cramps or the Reverend Horton Heat. Though some of the spirit is the same, the Pigs lack the steel of that type of band. Bacon doesn’t seem too concerned about his lack of harshness.

"It’s fun, but it’s fun without being hard edged," he said, reflecting on how his band stacks up to psychobilly and tight-wound cowpunk bands. "We could be hard edged. I used to be hard edged, like 20 years ago, but I’ve mellowed out and want to play real music."